Don't you want to try going into a dream?
So, on the second day after surgery, I was diagnosed with an ileus, and I had an ileus tube—a tube I sincerely wish they would rename to a hose—inserted through my nose into my stomach or intestines.
However, it seemed to be effective, and every three hours, when a nurse would drain the accumulated contents, the nausea would ease.
Having persistent nausea is truly miserable, isn't it...?
Thank you to the nurses who came to drain it even in the middle of the night or at dawn.
Third day after surgery
From around this time, I was able to use my abdominal muscles a little bit and started to be able to move.
I was surprised that I couldn't even roll over without being able to use my abdominal muscles.
Around this time, the surgical scars were painful, so I had painkillers added to my IV.
I also had a fever, and the ice pillow was a godsend.
In that state, I would sleep a little at night and then wake up.
Sleep and wake up.
I would turn on the TV while half-asleep, and I spent my mornings in a state where I couldn't tell if I was sleeping or not.
I was really glad I had a private room.
What would I have done in a shared room in a situation like this?
At this time, I had a strange experience.
The boundary between dreams and reality became distorted.
I would have incredibly realistic dreams.
I would wake up and for a moment, I couldn't tell if the dream I just had was a dream or reality.
When I tried to fall asleep, even though my consciousness was very clear and I was awake, I would be sucked into a dream world.
Dreaming while awake
I had that strange experience many times.
I still clearly remember the content and scenes of the dreams I saw at that time.
In the dream, I was conscious that 'this is a dream.'
But even though it was a dream, I struggled because I couldn't get out of it.
I tried telling a nurse who came to my room about that strange sensation.
“Isn't it because of the painkillers? Those are medicalnarcoticsafter all.”
Wait? Narcotics!?
...I didn't know.
No wonder I was having strange experiences.
For about three days after that, thanks to sleeping pills and painkillers, I would sleep and wake up, sleep and wake up at night.
The moment a nurse entered the room with a flashlight to change my IV, I would wake up, say 'Thank you!', and quickly present the barcode on my wrist tag, often surprising the nurse.
By that time, I had already gotten used to the tube in my nose and started to forget it was even there.
Looking back now, the first week after surgery might have been the peak of the hardship.
And, while looking back at the notes I kept at the time to write this article, I found this sentence.
What on earth was I writing at 6:00 AM?
Is this also because of the narcotics?
Fear the medical narcotics...